Chapter IX The Geiranger Fjord to Molde
Leaving now the magnificent Hjörund Fjord, we take the road from Öie to Hellesylt. Ascending the gorge of Nordangsdal, we again arrive at “Gaard” Tryggestad, at which place the road branches off for Hellesylt, and we drive down a steep, well-wooded valley along the banks of a mountain torrent. The river thunders down a rugged chasm, at times lost to sight in the mysterious depths of the gloomy, cavernous gorge; then, emerging into the open and madly plunging over huge boulders, it sends its spray over us in clouds as we pass.
The steep road descends through hanging woods of tall pine and graceful birch, and at a clearing in the forest a small farm, surrounded by its own green fields, is passed, and we now obtain a glimpse of the village of Hellesylt, reposing down by the margin of the bright fjord of Sunelv. Picturesquely perched on elevated ground above the red-tiled house-tops stands the church.
Deep in a valley to our right repose the remains of a huge avalanche of snow, surrounded by trees, with whose fresh, green foliage the white snow presents the striking contrast of winter and summer side by side. The time of cherry-blossom is almost over, but there is a wealth of apple and pear blossom in the many orchards around sunny Hellesylt.
Öie to Helleslyt
Having had so many hours in the “kariol,” it is refreshing to sit by the margin of a fjord again; to breathe in quietude the incense-laden air, and to listen to the faint murmur of some distant waterfall; to watch the rays of the westering sun stream from behind the nearer mountain in an intense amber glow, deeping gradually into rose, and illuminating the snow-topped peaks across the fjord yonder in a most enchanting way.
The nearer mountains are in purple shadow. In one short hour the light on each ruddy top dies away, and their colour is slowly transformed to that of cold, silvery blue as they are one by one deserted by the sun’s rays. All the peaks are now of blue, purple, and silver—cool and refreshing to look upon. Hardly has the last mountain taken on his silvery hue when a light zephyr breathes softly across the sleeping waters of the fjord in a steely glitter. But what is this weird light that is stealing over all Nature in softest and most delicate blush when we expected the cool twilight? It is the afterglow. An ethereal rosy golden light slowly intensifies on the mountains. It is more diffused than the actual direct glow from the setting sun, and not nearly so brilliant; but a dreamy glow, mysterious and bewitchingly weird in the intense stillness.
A slight breeze disturbs the surface of the water, and the fjord now ripples with a thousand hues from sunset sky and rosy-tinted mountains. It is now fast approaching the hour of midnight. Almost already the first faint signs of dawn appear in the north, where a solitary star is but barely discernible in the pale amber sky; and as we gaze on such a scene with reverent and grateful hearts, we offer up a pæan of praise, and thankfully store away in the treasure-house of our memory the recollection of a perfect night of June spent amid such romantic surroundings.
The Geiranger Fjord
In the character of the scenery of Geiranger in Söndmöre we have a blending of the Alpine splendour of Nordland, with the wildness of Jötunheim, the beauty of Hardanger, and the grandeur of Sogn. Whether we approach this fjord from the land side and drive down the splendidly engineered road in zigzag windings to the village of Meraak, or sail in from the main Stor Fjord, we obtain an equally vivid impression of Geiranger’s beauty and grandeur.
Here the scenery of the Söndmöre district maybe said to attain its most perfect expression. Sogn has higher mountains, but Söndmöre, with its bold, sharp peaks, makes quite as overpowering an impression on the mind of the traveller, attracting and captivating him with its enchanting power.
Geiranger Fjord and district are noted for beautiful waterfalls, and from the hamlet of Meraak, if we row for a couple of hours, we can visit the Seven Sisters Waterfall—its proper name, however, is Knivsflaafos—a bevy of falls who plunge gaily side by side down a high, precipitous cliff into the fjord. Their number varies at different times according to the state of the weather, and we are not always able to count the mystic seven. Other sisters appear after heavy rain, and thus increase the family to eight or nine; and in hot weather four only are to be seen.
These falls, which descend from a great height almost without touching the cliff, seem to shoot downwards like rockets in myriads of large and small douches of water—these, as they descend, pierce through the fine spray which they create, and thus cause a very pretty effect, especially when the sun’s rays cause rainbow hues to float on the delicate gauze of spray.
Another beautiful waterfall near here is known as “Brude Slur” (Bridal Veil). This “fos” descends almost as a veil from the sky-line of the high cliff, and spreads its streamers over the face of the dark rock. In stormy weather I have seen this waterfall lifted bodily by the wind and carried upwards into space, to descend like rain at some distance.
On the opposite side of the fjord, high up on the precipitous cliffs and in a romantic position, is situated an old farmstead, “Gaard” Skaggeflaa by name, and from the rugged crags in close proximity to it is a picturesque waterfall, Gjeitfos (Goat’s Fall). The only means of access to this lonely farm is by a dizzy goats’ track, which threads its devious way upwards from the shore of the fjord across the breast of the steep cliff. In one place the track is completely blocked by an overhanging rock. This is scaled by means of a ladder.
Some years ago there lived a farmer here who refused to pay his share of the local taxes. The wily farmer would never visit the village shops for provisions or other necessaries until he had first made quite sure that the “lensmand” (sheriff’s officer) was not in the neighbourhood; neither would he fish on the fjord, only at a place just beneath the cliffs on the top of which his farm lay.
On one occasion the “lensmand” came close upon the delinquent unawares. He followed him up the difficult goats’ track, climbing and slipping until he came to the ladder. Quickly scaling the rock, the tricky farmer pulled up the ladder after him, and so left the breathless and angry “lensmand” to find his way down again, for he was quite unable to proceed farther.
Near to the entrance of Geiranger Fjord, and among a number of large boulders which lie at the foot of the steep cliffs of Nökkeneb (Nyxies’ Peak) stands an ancient “gaard,” called Sultevik.
At this farm an ancient outbuilding of logs, called a “rogestue,” is still used as in primitive times. The exterior is unpretentious in appearance, but the interior is quite interesting. The hut is built of thick balks of timber, and the turf-covered roof is supported by heavy beams, which are dark with the smoke of centuries. On the hard earthen floor, rudely built of stones, stands an elevated hearth-fire, the smoke from which escapes through a square hole in the roof. Over the fire hangs an ancient iron “gryte” (cauldron), suspended from a movable wooden pole. On one side of the room stands a massive bench-like table, on the top of which was placed a large trough of wood, which was in use for kneading dough. It must have been used for centuries, to judge from its appearance. On the outside it was much worn and stained by age, while on the inside appeared many different stratifications of meal and flour dough, which also pointed to the fact of its being used for untold years.
Two robust peasant girls were busy together making potato-cakes, placing them for baking on a slab of slate which rested on stones over the peat fire. Through the smoke I could just see on a shelf a few old carved and painted wooden articles of domestic use—butter-holders, bowls, tankards, and dishes—and these were in daily use.
A quaint iron lamp (“kole”) is suspended from a beam in the ceiling, and this is the oldest form of lamp now to be found in the country. In it fish-oil (“trail”) is burned, and a piece of tow hangs as a wick from the lip of the open heart-shaped saucer which contains the oil. This lamp will not give a brilliant light by any means, but these simple peasants put up with it for the good and sufficient reason that they have nothing better.
This majestic fjord of Geiranger is noted for great avalanches of snow, sometimes of rocks, which in the winter and early spring descend from the steep mountains around.
Near Madvik Farm, at the entrance to the fjord, an unusually severe avalanche of stones and snow occurred a few years ago, the concussion from which was felt for several miles around, and on the water huge waves were formed, which swept with great velocity into the neighbouring branch fjords, and even across to Hellesylt, causing no little damage to property on the shore.
Söholt to Romsdal
I see from my diary that the fjord steamer left Meraak in Geiranger at the unearthly hour of 2 a.m., and that in six hours I arrived at Söholt on a fragrant morning in June.
At this place I hired a “kariol” and boy for the drive to Vestnes. In crossing the extensive moorland which forms the watershed, we met a picturesque group of farmers with their wives and children, and the cattle, sheep, and goats. They were on their way to the “sæter” farms, there to stay for the summer months. A couple of rustic carts were drawn along by sturdy cream-coloured ponies, and in the carts the youngest children sat quite comfortably among the various domestic goods and chattels which were for use up at the “sæter.”
Along the side of the road, which here crossed the bleak moorland plateau, tall standing stakes were placed at intervals in order to guide the traveller in winter-time when the road lies buried underneath the deep snow.
Vestnes is not an attractive place. From here the town of Molde can just be seen across the wide fjord, but it is too far distant for the view to be at all interesting.
Showers and sunshine alternating made the short steamer voyage from Vestnes to Aandalsnæs attractive, for the mountains of many peaks which surround the far-famed Romsdal were in view most of the time. Cloud shadows chased each other among their rugged forms and over the great patches of unmelted snow which lay on their summits.
The Romsdal
The village of Aandalsnæs, or Næs, owes the cause of its existence entirely to the magnificent scenery amid which it is situated. Veblungsnæs is the older port of call for the fjord steamers, but Næs, being more conveniently placed for travellers visiting the Romsdal, it has rapidly grown into favour in late years. The river Rauma, noted for its splendid salmon-fishing, separates the two villages.
Seen from Næs, also, the panorama of majestic mountains is much grander than from Veblungsnæs. On a fine summer’s evening the rocks on the sharp peaks of Romsdalshorn and Troldtinderne (witch pinnacles) are all crimson and purple with the sunset, and bright tongues of fiery cloud are often seen burning and quivering about them; and the river, brighter than all, flows silently down the broad valley in a glittering sheet of gold. Long level lines of dewy mist lie stretched along the valley, almost hiding the mountain bases by their filmy vapour.
Sometimes one may hear the peasant girls calling the cattle down from the hills by singing the “fjeldviser”—musical ditties whose notes are similar to those with which Jenny Lind once charmed great audiences in many lands.
The Romsdal, down which flows the river Rauma, is one of the grandest valleys in the whole of Norway. At Næs the valley is wide, and luxuriant green pastures and beautiful trees enliven the landscape.
Romsdalshorn, whose peaked top rises to over 5,000 feet, stands conspicuously at the entrance to the valley, and near to it on the left tower the still more lofty pinnacles of Vengetinderne, while on the right are the strikingly picturesque Trolltinderne (witch pinnacles), from whose rugged sides great avalanches of snow and rocks are precipitated in winter. Part of the serrated ridge is known as “Brudefölge,” or Bridal Train.
Farther up, and beyond Horgheim, the valley becomes narrower and more ravine-like; and here the river flows with greater impetuosity, and threads its way through a chaos of enormous blocks of rock, the result of some tremendous landslip.
At Flatmark (Flat Field) the valley becomes broader again, and the mountain scenery around is extremely grand and impressive.
Between here and Ormheim several fine waterfalls are precipitated from rocks some 2,000 feet in height, the chief among these falls being the Vermafos, which assumes imposing dimensions after rain or during the melting of the snow in early summer.
The road now ascends the once-dreaded Bjorneklev (Bears’ Cliff) in numerous windings, and at Stuefloten attains the height of over 2,000 feet above fjord-level. At this place ends the Romsdal, one of the most widely celebrated routes in Norway.
The river Rauma is about thirty-seven miles long from its source at the Lake Lesjeskogen to the Romsdals Fjord, and it is counted among the best salmon rivers in the country.
Salmon-fishing
Salmon-fishing in the rivers is carried on with the rod as a sport, and large sums of money are paid annually by sportsmen for the renting of rivers. Seine nets are also largely used by fishermen. These nets are placed at the mouths of the rivers, and in this way large hauls of fish are often made.
Salmon is fished all along the coast from the beginning of May to the end of August, and, since the practice of bag-netting was introduced some fifty years ago, the proceeds have increased enormously. Most of the fish is exported, a large quantity going to England.
The fishing industry may be considered the most ancient and important means of livelihood of the Norwegian people. More than a thousand years ago, according to the old sagas, “splendid painted ships, with sails of several colours,” sailed with fish from Norway to England; and this great industry is still one of the most important in the land, especially the sea fisheries, which obtain their peculiar value from the natural conditions and geographical features of an exceedingly long coast-line, with its deep inlets and numerous islands.
The great sea-fisheries
Of the great sea-fisheries, that of cod-fishing is by far the most profitable, and in its pursuit the greatest number of men are employed. It is carried on all along the coast, but most extensively in the northern part of the country. At the fishing stations in the Lofoten Islands alone some 40,000 men are employed during the first three months of the year.
Farther south, and especially in the wide fjords of the Romsdal County, sea-cod fishing has always been carried on more extensively than at most other points along the coast.
Cod vary in weight from 9 to 20 pounds, but they have been taken weighing as much as 90 pounds. Codfish is prepared, as a rule, either as “klipfisk” (salted and rock-dried fish), or as “törfisk” (dried stock-fish). The most important product, however, is “klipfisk.” It is cleaned and salted at the fishing stations, and then sent away to convenient drying-places, where the fish is laid out on the flat rocks (“klipper”) to dry, or on the shingly shore, where such is found.
It is an attractive and interesting sight to see the native women at work on the broad pebbly strand, their many-coloured garments fluttering in the breeze as they turn over the thousands of fish to dry in the sun. When sufficiently dry the fish is piled into circular stacks about 4 feet high; a flat wooden cover is then placed on the top, and this is held down by boulders of stone to protect it from the force of the wind. These wooden caps are usually painted a bright Indian red, and in appearance form a lively contrast to the deep blue water of the breezy fjord and the pale pebbles on the sunny strand. Many thousands of tons of “klipfisk” are exported annually, chiefly to Spain.
The preparation of “törfisk” is more simple than that of salted cod. The fish in this case, when cleaned, are usually hung up by the tail to dry in pairs, on large wooden frames or scaffolds called “hjeller.”
Next to the cod the herring fisheries are the most important in the country. These fisheries vary, however, very considerably, and the time during which the fish visit the coast is often of very short duration. The herring shoals come in twice a year, once in winter and once in summer or autumn; and it sometimes happens that quite suddenly, and as if by some stroke of magic, the sea becomes brimful of herring, and then after a short time it is just as suddenly empty again. At such harvest-times the fishermen are very hard at work both day and night, and have barely opportunity to take their food or rest; and as the sea is often rough, and the weather wet and stormy, their calling is at these times fraught with many dangers. As compensation, however, they have their long intervals of rest—perhaps too many of them. The farmer-fisherman of the fjords is in many respects better off, as he can find other employment if his daily fishing fails for a time, especially in the spring and summer months, when farm work claims his attention and crops have to be harvested and housed.
The summer day is of long duration in Norway. During the light nights Nature dreams, day meets day, and away up in the north the sun illumines the heavens by night as well as by day. Even in the southernmost parts of the country the setting sun barely sinks below the horizon from the end of April to the beginning of August, consequently bright twilight prevails during the whole of that period; but we must travel farther north and reach the polar circle before we see the sun shining all through the summer night.
At Bodö the sun does not set from the beginning of June to the first week in July; and at North Cape the midnight sun is visible from May 12 to July 29, and its orb presents from that place a most weird and impressive sight.
In winter, on the other hand, twilight takes the place of daylight in these high latitudes, and at North Cape the sun is not seen from the middle of November to the end of January.
Farther south, however, at Throndhjem, the sun rises at 10 a.m., and sets at 2.30 p.m., on the shortest days of winter; and at Bergen there are nearly six hours of daylight at that time of the year.
Norway in winter is not quite so dreadful a place as most people would imagine. After the first heavy fall of snow the days become bright and clear, and blue skies prevail, often for several weeks in succession, especially in districts which lie at some distance inland from the coast, or near the heads of the larger fjords. The air is here fresh and bracing, and the five hours of sunshine during even the shortest days make walking, sleighing, and ski-running attractive exercises. On the darkest nights of mid-winter the sky is palpitant with the luminous northern lights—the aurora borealis—which stream up from behind the dark mountains in prismatic hues of great brilliance; and when the full moon shines on the sparkling fjord and on the deep, crisp snow, it is exhilarating to take a long sleigh drive over the frosty roads by the margin of the fjord, to sup at a friend’s house on an evening at Yuletide.
Winter sports
The winter sports of Norway are celebrated far and wide, and they bid fair to become as attractive to pleasure votaries of snow and ice as are those of the Engadine. These sports are held in the month of February each year, at Holmenkollen, near Christiania, and at Throndhjem.
Among the essentially national sports held at fixed times at these centres may be mentioned that of ski-ing, or, properly, “skilöbning” (leaping on snowshoes). This is the most popular of all their sports, and it is the means of attracting many thousands of people, including numerous foreigners, chiefly English and German.
The use of the ski (pronounced “shee”) as an easy means of locomotion is, in the opinion of historians, of very ancient origin, and came to Norway with the Lapps long before the dawn of the Christian era; and from that remote time to the present the ski has been worn, chiefly by the peasants in mountainous districts, and is also very popular with the army. As a national sport it has had a great revival in recent years, and almost every boy and girl in the country now possess “skier.”
Wild animals and game
Another form of sport for which Norway is celebrated is that of the hunting and shooting of wild animals and game, and in this respect it is an ideal country for sportsmen. In the great forests that cover rather more than one-fifth of its entire area game of all kinds is to be found.
Among beasts of prey the bear and wolf are still common in the remoter parts of the country; also the lynx and glutton, although the latter is fast becoming extinct. The Government offers a reward for killing any of these animals, including the fox, of which there are large numbers.
The elk is now becoming rare, but there are large herds of reindeer in a wild state on the mountain plateaux, and the red deer is also found, though less frequently than in former times.
Of the wild fowl the capercailzie is the finest, and there are found everywhere “rype” (ptarmigan), and hazel and willow grouse. The latter are without comparison the most important game in the country.
The most valuable of the wild-fowl, however, is the eider-duck, on account of its down. This bird is most abundant among the northern islands, although it is also found in large numbers at many places along the coast.
We have followed the principal fjords of the west country, from Hardanger northwards, and now we come to Molde. This bright little town is more beautifully situated than any other in the country. It lies sheltered and calm by the blue waters of the Molde Fjord, over whose broad expanse are seen, to the south and east, the magnificent Söndmöre range of mountains, with their many peaks and glaciers. On a calm summer’s evening, when the setting sun lights up each peak and pinnacle with its golden glow, the scene from this place is one of enchanting loveliness:
“Ye mountains hoar of earthfast stone,
Where ancient Thor presides alone;
Ye fjords that smile in silver blue,
Each rock and isle, farewell to you.”1
Notes
1 Frithjof Saga.